⋆ ˚。⋆୨ 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 ୧⋆ ˚。⋆
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hello! my name is arielle and I'm writing for fun on here. I hope you all can enjoy my writings with the same love I do. request are open! dont be a stranger here.
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@simplyonlyyours
⋆ ˚。⋆୨ 𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 ୧⋆ ˚。⋆
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hello! my name is arielle and I'm writing for fun on here. I hope you all can enjoy my writings with the same love I do. request are open! dont be a stranger here.
masterlist mood boards
paul smut pls pls pls!!!
𝗥𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗖𝗨𝗥𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦 .ೀ
pairings: paul lahote x jaguar shifter fem!reader
summary: it's been one week since paul lahote imprinted on you, and tensions are rising between the two of you. the thread breaks completely at the boundary lines and you both finally give in.
word count: 3,9k
warnings: nsfw, enemies to lovers, public sex (?) (it's deep in the forest), biting, hair tugging, clothes ripped off, scratching, possessiveness, not proof read
a/n: okay this is way longer than I expected but the idea was in my head for too long for it to be short im so sorry y'all :/
It’s been one week, one week since being plagued with the nightmare that didn’t vanish in sleep of that silver wolf locking eyes with yours and having the whole world reshifted to just the two of you. The restless energy demanded an outlet the moment a ray hit your face in the early morning, you wasted no time dawning the proper clothes and shoes to go for a run in the cool damp forest.
The cold air hit like a sharp distraction smelling of dew and decaying leaves. You started off slow, breath puffing small clouds but quickly picked up the pace. You weren’t running toward anything, it was to burn something off, the lingering irritation from last week. Paul Lahaote. Aggravating, stubborn, annoying, and tempting. This entire stupid, claustrophobic feeling of the imprint. Every push of your feet was harder and harder, the trees blurring into a green-brown streak, a clean sweat beginning to beam on your neck. There was no direction in mind, just instinct in your legs following the paths that outran the thoughts chasing you.
Feet moving on autopilot, the slopping trail you were going down was filled with the sound of rushing water. The air grew cooler, damper and familiar. The familiarity forced you to a sudden skidding stop, dirt thrashing beneath your feet. You were at the creek. The exact spot where the water rushed over as quickly as the look of horror Paul’s face turned during the argument. The one where you two finally locked eyes and everything clicked with infuriating focus.
A twig snapped in the trees on the other side of the water.
There was no need to look up who it was. The pull was instant, a magnetic tug deep in your stomach answering a call you hadn’t made. Heat filled the air like a warm blanket that you knew you should take off but definitely wouldn’t. Paul stood at the tree line, not advancing, not phasing back, just watching…guarding.
You didn’t acknowledge him, speak, or even look at him. You couldn’t, the distance between you two was nothing yet everything all at the same time. Pulsing like the churning water that narrowed into an uncrossable stream that was only a few feet away. Instead you just stood there staring at the water as though you could burn a hole through it, a thick stare for the morning mist.
“What Paul?” The words hung in the damp air, A challenge, an invitation, a demand, another for him to break the silent vigil and say something. For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of splashes against wet stones. Then came the soft, heavy sounds of paws on wet earth. Rustling from the other side of the creek came Paul, shirtless with only a pair of dark athletic shorts that must have been stashed behind a tree. His chest and arms gleamed too well in the morning light, his hair dark and messy. You finally took a deep breath, this moment felt safe and you hated it.
His dark eyes were fixed on you, taking in your state. A slow, familiar smirk tugged at his lips, "I thought kittens didn’t like the water?” You rolled your eyes immediately. You hated the way his words felt more like a tease than an insult in this moment. Even with a voice rough and low there was a dangerous warmth that spread though your chest.
Still you couldn’t turn to him fully, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing the slight heat that creeped up your neck. Words left your mouth before you could really think of them but a slow provocative smile curved your lips. “I’m not scared to get wet, puppy.” Your voice was a lazy drawl.
The silence from the other side of the creek was loud as the rushing water seemed to be stronger than ever. You could practically feel the shockwave that hit him. The words themselves weren’t necessarily provocative but the tone was, and so was the messenger. The familiar smirk was gone from his face, his dark eyes were wide and his expression was utterly shocked. The flush that had been on your neck was now mirrored on his tanned chest, crawling upward.
He opened his mouth, closed it, then managed a strangled sound. “What?” It came out as a rough croak. You let the smile widen, feeling a surge of power knowing exactly what he was thinking of. You’d knock him off balance. Good.
“Cat got your tongue?” you taunted, taking a deliberate step closer to the water’s edge. You tilted your head, eyes now wide and mocking. “Or did I finally find something that shuts you up?” Paul was still staring, his chest rising and falling faster than before. However, the shock was fading and was being replaced by a slow-burning, dark intensity. His own body betrayed him as he took a step closer on his side of the creek, shortening the distance between you two by just shy of 3 feet of water. His gaze dropped from your face, sweeping over you in your running clothes, a quick assessing look that felt like a physical touch, before snapping back to your eyes.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Kitten.” His voice was laced with a rough warning. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.”
“Oh, I think I do,” You shot back, your confidence a shield. “I’m messing with the big bad wolf who gets all flustered when I mention getting wet. It’s cute, really. Almost makes you seem like a real boy.” You saw the way Paul’s jaw tightened quickly.
The air between you crackled, no longer with simple hatred or weary frustration, but with something hotter, more volatile, and personal. Paul didn’t move for a long second, then a slow dangerous smile spread across his face. It wasn’t his usual old smirk, it was darker. Shock left his body, it was burned away by the challenge your voice suggested. His dark eyes held yours, unwavering. “You think this is a game? You think you can poke the wolf and just walk away? The imprint isn’t a suggestion. It’s a fact. And the fact says your happiness is my problem. And right now, you being a brat makes you happy. So be a brat, see how far it gets you.”
He was turning your own teasing against you, framing it as a service he was providing. Tension was thick and radiating between you two, you could taste it. He hadn’t crossed the line, but he was right on the edge. The look in his eyes promised he wouldn’t stay there forever. For a heartbeat there was only the sound of the water and the pounding of your heart in your ears. Then, you moved.
Taking a deliberate step forward, off the bank and into the creek the icy water hit your ankles that it almost stole your breath. However, you didn’t flinch, you held Paul’s dark, burning gaze.
“Prove it,” you said, voice clear and challenging over the roar of the current.
His eyes widened a fraction, but his smile froze and slowly melted into something more intense, more focused. He looked from your face to the water swirling around your legs, then back up. The pull between you wasn’t a quiet hum anymore, it was a screaming siren, tugging at your chests, demanding, pleading for the distance to be closed.
“You’re going to catch a cold, kitten.” he said finally, his voice was softer than before, but still charged with that intense energy. “Is the little doggy afraid of water?” you taunted, turning to move away from him. It was a dismissive gesture, the final shot before you retreated to your side of the boundary.
You didn’t make it a full step.
His hand shot out, crossing the water’s surface in a blur. His fingers closed around your bare forearm, his grip firm and warm. It wasn’t rough but it was unbreakable, making your breath catch in your throat. When you met his eyes they were blazing into you. Shock gone, replaced by something raw and possessive.
“I can swim just fine,” he said in a low growl. “But you’re the one standing in my creek,” Paul said your name softly at the end, forcing you to go utterly still, the cold water forgotten. The heat of his grip was the only thing you could feel. Slowly, deliberately, you leaned closer to him, closing the small distance between your faces over the rushing water. Your voice dropped to a whisper that was almost lost in the creek’s roar, but of course he heard it.
“What,” you breathed, lips barely moving, “are you going to do about it?”
Paul’s fingers tightened on your arm, eyes dropping to your mouth, then back up. The raw possessiveness in his gaze was terrifying and exhilarating. With a sudden, rough motion, he yanked you forward.
You stumbled through the water and crashed against the bank on his side. He caught you, his other arm wrapping around your waist to steady you. You were on his side of the creek, held against his bare chest. Faces so close that you could feel his warm and quick breath against your cold skin.
“Anything,” he growled, the word low and vibrating a promise against your lips. “Anything I have to do.” As you spoke your breath mingled with his in the cold morning air, “like what, I don’t play very nice.” Your eyes held his, the challenge in the air thick.
His arm around your waist tightened pulling you even closer, the only bit of space left was found between your lips. You could feel every hard plane of him, the rapid, heavy beat of his heart thudding against your sternum.
“You think I do?” he mummered intimately. His free hand came up ,fingers brushing a free strand of hair from your cheek. His touch was startlingly gentle, at odds with the fierce possessiveness in his grip. “Nice is boring kitten, and you…you’re the furthest thing from boring I’ve ever seen.”
His thumb traced the line of your jaw, his dark eyes following the path of his touch. The imprint was a live wire, humming with a current that felt less like a chain and more like a lightning strike. You were in his arms, heat radiating from where your skin met his.
“So show me,” you breathed, voice barely audible. “Show me how not-nice you can be.”
“I’m not sure you can handle it, kitten.” Paul muttered the last part out, the challenge between you thick and sweet as honey. His thumb was still tracing your jaw, a slow deliberate calmness that sent shivers down your spine. And his eyes, they were holding yours. Waiting, daring you to make the next move. To prove you were just as tough as you acted.
You let your hands finally came up to rest lightly on his bare waist, just above the waistband of his shorts. You felt the muscles there jump under your touch. A slow, wicked smile spread across your own face, mirroring his.
You leaned in, until your lips were teasing the shell of his ear. “What if I decide to scream?” you whispered, voice a silken thread. “Right now? What if I tell Sam you dragged me over here and manhandled me?” You pulled back just enough to see his reaction. A new calculating glint entered his gaze. He knew you were bluffing, you wouldn’t scream. This was a game between you and him.
“You won’t,” he said, certainting ringing in his low voice. He pulled your hips flush against his, giving you a better feel of him than before. “You like this too much.”
A hand of yours shot up, fingers tangling in the dark, messy strands of his hair from the back of his head. You gave a sharp, deliberate tug, pulling his head down so his face was level with yours, your noses almost touching. His eyes widened a fraction in surprise, then narrowed with deep, intense focus.
“I like marking my territory, Paul.” Your voice was a low, possessive purr that was all feline confidence. “And I’m not sure if you can handle it, puppy.” You taunted, using his own words from earlier but with his demeaning nickname.
A low, rough sound escaped him, the hand on your waist slid lower, splaying possessively over the curve of your hip, his fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. The other came up to cup the back of your head, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin behind your ear.
“You have no idea,” his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, the heat of his breath intoxicating. He then shifted his grip, turning you and pinning you so that your back was against the rough bark of a pine tree. He crowded into your space, caging you in with all heat and hard muscle. “The imprint marked me the second I saw you. You’re in my blood. In my head. Everywhere….So go ahead. Mark me, see if you can make a dent.”
You didn’t hesitate. You closed the final inch of space and kissed him, claiming what you said you wanted.
It wasn’t soft or sweet, it was a clash. Lips, teeth and the sharp intake of breath. Your fingers were still tangled in his hair holding him close to you. His mouth was hot and demanding against yours, and you met every demand with one of your own. The hand Paul had on your hip tightened and pulled you closer to him than ever before. You could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against your stomach.
The imprint, that hated bond, sang in your veins like a song bird finding its perfect melody, amplifying every sensation until you were dizzy with it.
You bit his lower lip, enough to make him growl into your mouth and slide his tongue past your lips. Deepening the kiss until you were breathless, and no longer caring for the roughness of the tree bark on your back.
The kiss broke, and you were both panting in the air catching your breaths staring in one another’s eyes, realizing the line that was crossed today. The air was thick with sensations of each other, Paul closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of your arousal that, when he opened his eyes, they went completely black for a second.
You weren’t done. The need to mark him, claim him in a way that he couldn’t ignore, was a fever in your blood. Your hands slid from the softness of his hair down to his back. Nails digging into the hot, smooth skin of his shoulders, dragging them down leaving four sharp trails in their wake.
He hissed, body jerking against yours, but it made him bury himself closer in the curve of your neck. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin, Paul growled your name. Half warning, half plea.
You tilted your head, giving him better access. “Marked,” you whisper in a husky tone. Then you turned your head and sank your teeth into the muscle of his shoulder, just enough to leave the imprint of a love bite that made his hand on your hip tighten to the point of almost bruising.
Paul lifted his head from your neck, his eyes wild. “You want to play that game?” His words rough with desire and something feral. He didn’t even give you the chance to think of answering before his lips met yours again, fiercer than before. One hand came to cradle your jaw, holding you still for his kiss while the other slid from your hip to the back of your thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist. The new position pressed him even more intimately against you, making you gasp into his mouth, fingers scrambling for steadiness on his back, finding the fresh scratches you’d made.
You didn’t pull back, you tugged him harder into you, Paul responded by hiking your other leg up around your waist, lifting you fully off the ground. His hands slid down, roughly grabbing you by your ass, holding you up, pressing you against the hard ridge of his arousal with a deliberate, grinding motion that made pleasured moans escape your mouth.
The scent of your own arousal was overwhelming now, a sweet, musky cloud that seemed to drive him wild. His mouth left yours, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw to your neck. Paul didn’t bite, not yet, but his teeth scraped against your pulse point, a promise of what was to come.
“Paul,” you breathed, head falling back against the tree with fluttering eyes. This was no longer a protest, but a surrender to the sensation.
He lifted his head slightly from your neck, lips now pressed against your ear. His breathing was harsh, lips swollen and wet from your kisses. “Tell me to stop,” he growled, voice thick with need. “Say the word, and I’ll put you down, we’ll walk away. Right now.”
“Say I’m yours,” you whispered, words slipping out before you could stop them. The plea hung in the air between you, a raw, sensitive beg that held so much insecurity and hopefulness in one breath. Paul went still, the hand holding your jaw went soft. Not a lack of force, but a deliberate gentleness now. You could feel his lips almost twitch into a smile against your neck. He moved to look at you now, thumb brushing your bottom lip and your cheek.
“You’re mine,” he breathed out, “now make me yours.” His thumb a possessive caress on your skin. Your eyes held one another before you broke eye contact to focus on the strong column of his neck. You leaned in, biting hard on the curve where his neck met his shoulder. Claiming him in every way but words with your teeth and tongue. He groaned, then started moving his hips again. Grinding into you as you pulled away from his neck finally. He was quick to make your lips meet each other and this kiss was deeper and slower than the earlier ones.
As it deepened, you both began fighting for dominance, trying to make the other open their mouth to accept the other dancing tongue. The hand that was cradling your face came to the back of your head, a harsher grip in your hair, the other clinging onto every curve of your ass that he could find. “You smell like mine,” he said slowly between kisses. “Taste like mine.” His teeth grazed on the sensitive skin of your bottom lip. “Let me make you mine.”
“Make me yours,” you whispered against his lips, the words a breathy, dangerous invitation. “All the way.” Paul’s growl was pure and undiluted wolf. The last thread of his restraint snapped. He didn’t need to be told twice.
His lips met yours again, hurried and frantic kisses being shared. His hands were everywhere at once, pushing your top up, rough palms skimming over the bare skin of your stomach making you arch into him. Your own hands were going from their new position of being tangled in his hair to flimsy pushing down his shorts.
His head dipped down to kiss and suck on your breasts, teeth grazing over your exposed chest, but he hands were getting impatient at the fabric still coating your legs. Paul couldn’t try to shift your bottoms down anymore, instead the air was filled with the sound of them ripping. You gasped and looked up at his face, his usual cocky smirk in place.
“Sorry,” his grin was too proud that you knew not to take him seriously. A small growl tore from your throat as you reached to pull his lips back onto the bare skin of your chest, your once frantic hands tore down his shorts in a swift motion making Paul hiss at the sudden cold air touching him. But he moved just as quickly, he removed his head from your breast and angled you against him so his hardness was pressing against your now exposed core, a gentle tease that had a raging fire behind it.
“Please,” you moaned out, Paul’s eyes went wild at the plea, “I didn’t take you one for begging,” his voice slightly condescending. Your hands reached up tracing along the scratch marks from just a few minutes ago, reapplying the burn that came from them originally, you muttered his name like a warning, and he took it gladly.
It wasn’t gentle and slow, no, he finally entered you with a quick, deep thrust. It made you cry out loudly and throw your head back against the tree, his hands were surely leaving scars on your cheeks now with how hard he gripped them the moment he felt you. As Paul gave you a moment to adjust to him, you could hear his heavy breathing and deep grunts in your ear, a melody to the corresponding feel of his thickness finding its place in you.
When he began to move it was a surreal experience, every thrust, every tug of hair, it was like your minds were catching up to what your bodies already knew.
“Fuck-” Paul was beginning to shutter as he said your name like a prayer. He moved his hands from your cheeks, one came up besides your head on the bark steadying himself, the other wrapped around your waist to keep you as close as possible to him. You could feel the end coming, for both of you. Your walls were shrinking and legs began to coil with tension, his thrusts growing frantic desperately searching for its exit.
Your legs were still tightly wrapped around his waist encamping him as close as he could be, your back arched like a cat to take him deeper. Your hands that were leaving endless lines against his back moved, one gripping his hair, the other clinging onto his shoulder. “Look at me,” you huskily breathed out, shrieks of moans interrupting you here and there. Paul let out a groan and forced his head up to meet your eyes.
He pushed into you again, your mouth an o-shape, tears of pleasure brimming your eyes. Paul's eyes narrowed at the sight, the hand gripping the bark was surely in pain now but that didn’t matter. Only you in this moment mattered. Making you finish, and looking into your eyes as you did. Claiming you. Your moans and his grunts were the only thing heard now until you interrupted your melodies once again. “I’m going to-” you couldn’t even finish your sentence. It was pathetically good.
Paul couldn’t open his mouth to reply to you, instead his lips found yours once again, teeth clashing and messily he kissed you. The coil in your stomach came undone all over his thickness and he couldn’t hold it anymore. He bit down on your bottom lip, when he finally let go you could feel his warmth seeping inside of you and the whimpers that tore from his throat fanning your lips.
The damage was done, you claimed each other in your own ways, and now you were both catching your breath against the pine tree. Heads resting against each other, arms not giving a slight glimpse of letting the other go soon.
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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currently taking request, thank you for your interest in my blog!
twilight masterlist
𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 masterlist
I want your things in my room, I miss you all of the time ˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
currently taking requests!
JACOB BLACK coming soon....
SAM ULEY
ྀིྀིone shots anchored touch (draft)
JARED CAMERON
ྀིྀིone shots sweet kisses
PAUL LAHOTE
ྀིྀིone shots rushing currents
EMBRY CALL coming soon...
QUIL ATEARA coming soon...
ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ ᴋɪꜱꜱᴇꜱ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:・
pairing: jared cameron x fem!reader
summary: dealing with the stress of the upcoming newborn army battle has been stressful as jared's imprint, so naturally you relax with two healthy methods. baking and having a heat filled moment with your werewolf boyfriend.
warnings: not fully smut, fingering, slight mentions of hair pulling (it's gentle), possessiveness, fluffy nsfw
word count: 2,6k
During the past few days of worrying endlessly about the newborn army and the pack getting involved you’ve resulted in what you do best during the stress, well first would’ve been crying but tears didn’t feel appropriate, so you were baking. Jared, ever the sweet tooth loved this. It was his refresher during a time of tense patrols, pack arguments about the cullens, and long nights watching over Swan’s house.
So for him, sitting in his imprintee's house leaning against the counter watching you fumble pulling out flour, sugar, and cocoa powder from the pantry was a blessing. “Can I help?” his voice interrupting the quiet that was originally wrapped around you two. You smiled, weakly, but still smiled, “You can lick the bowl and do the dishes afterwards.”
“What? Do you think I’m useless?” He held a teasing smile faking an offended gasp, “Jare last time you ‘helped’ me bake you added a tablespoon of salt. A tablespoon!” your eyes brighten at the memory.
As you worked, the tight coil of anxiety in your chest began to slowly unwind. The kitchen was filled with the rich, sweet smell of chocolate, vanilla and something uniquely Jared. In this moment there was no army, no pack, no Cullens, only you, Jared and the promise of gooey chocolate normalcy.
You poured the thick, chocolatey batter into the greased pan smoothing it out with a spatula. A generous dollop remained in the bowl and out of pure uncomplicated, mischievous impulse you dipped your finger into the cool batter and reached up, smearing the mixture across Jared’s face.
He blinked, stunned, a slow drip of batter slid down towards his jaw. “Oh, it’s like that is it?” he asked, his voice a playful growl with a grin betraying his act. With lightning speed he dipped two long fingers into the same bowl. The sight made you squeal and move to duck behind the kitchen island.
The chase was brief and full of giggles, it ended with you being cornered against the fridge, Jared’s batter coated fingers hovering inches from your nose, he towered over you of course, being at least 6 feet tall. You were breathless looking up at him, inhaling his familiar clean that somehow mixed with the damp woods.
“Truce?” You pleaded, eyes sparkling. He considered it, his dark brown eyes softening. Then he slowly lowered his hands, choosing to lean in and kiss you. His lips were soft and gentle tasting faintly like sugar, the batter on his cheek transferred a little to yours the feeling rough and grainy unlike his touch. “Truce granted,” he murmured against your lips, “But only because you’re cute.”
You couldn’t help but smile into him, as he pulled away his eyes remained fixed on you, full of love and adoration. Jared’s fingers were still coated in that thick, chocolatey batter. Without a second thought you reached for his hand, your own movement driven by anything but logic, just pure emotion. You took his long fingers sucking the rich chocolate mixture clean from him. The taste simmered on your tongue; sugar, vanilla, chocolate and salt from his skin. You hummed in satisfaction, eyes closing briefly as lips wrapped around his fingers, cheeks slightly hallowed an innocent greedy pleasured look plastered on your face.
For Jared, the world stopped.
The simple, domestic scene shattered and transformed into something else entirely. The sight of you, so guileless, so focused on the taste, your warm mouth enveloping his skin, sent a jolt of pure, white-hot electricity through him. His breath hitched audibly, the playful light in his eyes vanished, replaced by a sudden intense darkness coated by hunger that had nothing to do with the batter. Your innocence wasn’t a barrier, it was gasoline on a fire that made the moment a thousand times more potent, more thrillingly forbidden.
You released his fingers with a pop, “All clean now,” you said, licking your lips. For a long second he didn’t move, his gaze locked on your mouth, his own lips slightly parted before clamping down. The air in the kitchen felt hot and charged the usual warmth that radiated off him felt ten times hotter under his intense gaze. When Jared finally spoke his voice was rougher, lower than before. “Yeah,” he managed “all clean.”
You swallowed thickly, taking in his tension, you looked up at him biting your bottom lip as your heart began to race under his gaze. The gaze that had now left your face and traveled down the line of your throat, over the exposed slope of your shoulder and a strap of the black laced bra you were wearing. It was as if he was absorbing the sight, slow and deeply, like memorizing a map. Then new tension hummed in the air beside you, a silent counterpart to the familiar hum of the fridge you were now cooly pressed against.
He reached out, fingers brushing away strays of hair from your face. The touch was feather light, yet still sent a shiver down your spine. “You have no idea what you do to me,” He breathed out your name at the end of his sentence. The meaning behind his words, the heat of his gaze dawned on you and in response you let out a shaky breath as a heat spawned down below your stomach.
“What do I do to you, Jare?” your voice quiet, the question hanging in the charged air between you two. He didn’t answer immediately but his hand was behind your neck now, fingers brushing through your hair, his eyes searched your face for any signs of discomfort. The raw unfiltered look in his eyes stole the air from your lungs.
“You make it hard to breathe,” he said, the words rough and honest. “You make my blood feel like it’s on fire. You make every instinct I have scream to get closer, to touch, to claim.” He let out a sharp breath, frustration evident in the sound. “And at the same time, you make me want to be so careful with you. To wrap you in cotton and put you on a shelf where nothing can ever hurt you.”
Your heart clenched at his words and you took a small step closer, your back leaving the cool of the fridge, “I’m not fragile.” you said, it held a secret meaning though. I’m not fragile enough for you to not take me right here and show me how much you want me. He let out a huff yet closed the distance between you two, “I know you’re not,” his voice then softened “but you are precious.” Your eyes held one another, a romantic thread that held so much sincerity and desire.
He saw the plea in your eyes, begging for him to do what he wanted, to claim you. His eyes darkened, the gold in them shifting to pure black. The careful gentle restraint broke and a low rough sound escaped him, part growl part surrendered.
In one fluid motion the hand behind your neck was cradling your face and the other rested on the curve of your waist, he breathed your name like a prayer and a warning, then his mouth was on yours.
It was nothing like the sweet brief kiss from earlier; it was pure, deep claiming hunger and devastatingly thorough. His tongue swept into your mouth tasting you, claiming the space as his. One hand slid from your cheek into your hair, gently tilting your head back to give him better access, while his other arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you flushed against him. You could feel every hard, tense line of his body, the proof of his own desperate desire pressed against your stomach.
You melted into him, a hand fisting in the fabric of his shirt, the other in his hair, holding onto him as the world dissolved into just the taste of him, the feel of him, then scent of him, and the overwhelming heat of him. There was only this. Only him and you together, the desperate consuming fire he’d spoken of, and your own willing surrender to it.
You poured every ounce of wanting into the kiss, the hand on his shirt slid up to his shoulders, and you began pulling him towards the couch. A warm liquid ache bloomed low in between your legs making the thin fabric of your black lace panties intensely present.
He followed you without hesitation, his mouth never leaving yours but his arms tighten at the scent that you were now producing, keeping you upright as you blindly guided each other out of the kitchen.
The back of your knees hit the edge of the L-shaped couch, you broke the kiss, gasping for air. Chest heaving, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, his midnight eyes took everything in with a ragged breath. “Are you sure?” His words were strained as if it cost him everything to ask. Jared’s hands were fists at his sides, trembling with the effort of holding them still, suddenly too scared to break you.
You took one of his hands and placed them at the hem of your own top, his fingers naturally hooked under the soft fabric. It was like an invitation, a promise. With a breathless whisper you finally said, “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” That broke the last thread of his control.
His free hand came up to frame your face again. Thumbstroking your burning cheek with a reverence so sweet, “mine,” he whispered, the word a vow, truth, and claiming all of its own. His mouth was then on yours again, narrowing the world to the feel of his hands,lips, and his body pressing you down onto the softness of the couch.
He was a solid, welcome weight on top of you. His kisses left a trail of fire from your mouth to your jaw, moving painfully slow down to the sensitive column of your throat. You arched into him naturally like your body knew where it fit perfectly. A soft sound escaped you as one of his hands began a slow, deliberate journey down your body. Sliding down the curves of your breasts, moving down your hips. The thinness of the fabric you were wearing offered no barrier to the heat of his palm that now settled low below the waist, fingers splayed possessively.
He soon began to move his hand in slow, gentle circles, the pressure firm and sure. The friction of the fabric against the sensitive skin beneath, combined with the relentless, rhythmic movement of his hand sent glittering sparks through you. So pure and sweet yet so maddening in torment. He knew what you wanted but still you were separated by that final layer. Your hips lifted slightly of their own accord, seeking more pleasure and contact that was making you whiny.
His lips broke away from your neck to look down at you, his eyes black with desire and satisfaction seeing the marks he left on you. He positioned himself so he was more center in between your legs, his hard purposely against your thigh. “You feel that?” he murmured, his voice was a rough vibration against your skin, his circling fingers pressed a little harder and lower. “That’s all for you. All because of you.”
You could only nod with your eyes closed, your breath was coming in short small gasps. The warmth that had been spreading through you earlier was now a throbbing urgent need centered entirely where his hand moved. “Please Jare…” you whispered, the words a breathless plea.
Your own hand, trembling slightly, was moving down his arm, over the hard muscle of his forearm until your finger found his wrist gently guiding his teasing hand so it was moving past your waistband. He groaned as if it was torn from his soul as his fingers slipped beneath the elastic waistband of your thin bottoms finding the damped spot of your black lace panties. The touch of his bare skin against them was an electric shock for you. You gasped, back arching off the couch. His touch was no longer gentle circles through fabric; it was direct and intimate and hand your panties shoved aside.
The rough pad of his thumb found the exact center of your aching need, your moans made his forehead drop to rest against yours. His own needs now throbbing in his jeans. His breath was hot and ragged against the skin of your neck as his thumb and middle finger began to move again in deliberately slow strokes that made you see stars and clutch his shoulders. Nails digging into the fabric of his shirt anchoring yourself and sensation threatened to sweep you away at the feeling of his fingers inside you. The lack of a barrier made you cry out, his finger the perfect fit inside, it was an undeniable rightness.
He watched your face as he slowly, carefulling pressed another finger inside you, his own expression one of awestruck hunger. Your eyes were squeezed shut against the overwhelming tide of feeling yet your mind hadn’t forgotten about him or his wants. A hand slid down his muscled chest and your fingers fumbled for the button of his jeans. The movements were clumsy and desperate but the intention was clear and sharp. The sound of the zipper falling down seemed to tangle with your own moans, soon your hand pushed beneath the denim and the waistband of his boxers and found him. Hot, hard and velvety smooth against your palm. It tore a shuddering groan from his throat and made his fingers still.
Jared squeezed his eyes shut, his face a mask of gasping agonized pleasure. Your tentative stroke soon became a bold one guided by his ragged breaths and the way his hips jerkered against your hand. His fingers began moving again, the two of you participating in a dance that only required the hands of each other. The dual sensations, his fingers moving within you, your hands moving on him, created a feedback loop of pure desperate need.
His voice came out raw and broken, “Please don’t stop.” he whimpered, losing all his usual confident control. The sheer vulnerability in his voice shattered you. This was a soul-deep bond that both of you were going to seal as though at the same time. A tremor went through his entire body as your free hand cupped his cheek and tugged on his hair. He leaned lower so your lips were brushing against each other.
“Jared,” You moaned into his mouth forcing your eyes open, when his eyes met yours they were glossy, dark, and primal. He kissed you deeply and your hips began sliding up and down his thrusting fingers.
Every grunt and moan was a shared lullaby between you two, until you finally broke it with a final gasp, "I'm going to..” you couldn’t even finish your sentence but you didn’t need to, the tighter grip you held on Jared and his hard was enough for him to know what you meant.
“I know, just fuck- keep going I’m almost there.” He said in reply, his body was shaking above you as he was finding his own high. Soon, the sounds of the living room were filled with your screams of arrival and his own grunts and whimpers as he coated hand and wrist. He came down on top of you, his heat suddenly overwhelming now as you came down from high.
You two were breathless and sweaty but it was exactly what you needed.
He lifted himself so he was on his elbows, head directly above yours, “Can we have a round two in the shower?” Jared held a dazed smile as he looked down on you. You narrowed your eyes at him and laughed.
The moment ended with the two of you tangled in each other, playing with each other's hair, slowly and losing the fight of sleep.
me maladaptive daydreaming about the most recent ff i've read (i need psychological attention not an iphone)
just wanna say shoutout to the people who still write fics for embry call…yall are TRULY doing the lord’s work 🫶🏽
an original oc will be the favorite of many, but you, targ!reader daughter of rhaenyra, shall be mine
Are you Team Green or Team Black?
Love, I'm team characters that only get 5 minutes of screentime in the show
me when its phone time in bed and i have a new fictional crush to obsess over all night